


Not So Broken Afterall

by RenaRoo



Series: Angst War [17]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Background Oliver Queen, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2015-06-22
Packaged: 2018-04-05 17:18:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4188303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RenaRoo/pseuds/RenaRoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce told her that Batgirl needed her, but Dinah might have needed this just as much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not So Broken Afterall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bat-canaries](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=bat-canaries).



> Prompt: ( bat-canaries ) Thanks for getting back to me! If you aren’t too swamped with prompts at the moment: An angsty Babs/Dinah fic, based on Barbara following the Killing Joke? Babs feels depressed, both blaming herself, and knowing that she can never be what she was. Dinah, knowing what that is like, due to her experience in the Longbow Hunters, slowly tries to bring her out of it. And they fall in love along the way. Thanks!
> 
> A/N: Again, I’m just SO sorry for how long it’s been taking me to answer requests. I thank you so much for this beautiful one, because healing that’s left ambiguous in canon is one of my biggest inspirations to work on “fixing” stuff” so this one in particular was really great, thank you!
> 
> Comic References: Batgirl: Year One, Batman: The Killing Joke, Green Arrow: The Longbow Hunters – but for writing’s sake I’m playing pretty loose on this one with the timeline.

It’s been a while. 

It’s been a while for a lot of things. For the heels, the fishnets. The stride of her bike. The embrace of someone who feels like a second hand, the tickle of Ollie’s beard on the back of her neck. It’s been a long while. 

It’s why when Bruce -- haggard and drenched from the rain, looking battle worn and older than Dinah had ever seen him -- called on her, she hesitated before suiting up. 

“I don’t have anything to do with the Joker,” she reminded him, tossing the bank statement in the trash. The withdraw from her account to pay for the last bit of physical therapy had wiped her out entirely. 

The relocation back to Gotham had not been so that old “friends” could feel the right to drop in as they wanted. 

“You don’t,” he had agreed grimly. “But you have something to do with Batgirl. Don’t you?”

That she does.

And though it’s been a little while, Black Canary wears her second skin like an old glove, finds her way to Gotham General, and reaches the window on the fifth floor with little to no effort. Wildcat and the JSA would be proud if they were still around the despot city.

She waits for the midnight nurse to leave before she begins to enter. It’s been some time, but Dinah still thinks about being on the other side of these tubes and wires, morphine pumps and sheets -- she has to block it. Has to not think about the way she felt or even about Jankowski at all. 

Instead she forces herself to see the body in the bed before her. To see the face -- one she recognizes, and doesn’t all at the same time. A familiar stranger. 

It’s Batgirl. The rookie who had the moxy to break into the JSA headquarters, to demand mentorship, and got it. 

From her.

Batgirl is staring holes into Dinah’s soul. The rings beneath her eyes are dark, her eyes are red, but she’s the furthest thing from unaware. She’s just _anger.  
_

“That entrance was loud and sloppy,” the redhead scolded darkly. “If I had thought you were Batman I would have called the nurse back in. But I could hear those heels clicking from Robinson Park.”

“Then I’m no Batman,” Black Canary responds tiredly, shrugging. “Mission accomplished.”

“Why are you here?” she presses.

“Well, being no Batman, I’ll be honest with you,” Dinah says with a sad sigh. “He told me you were hurt. I came from the word go.”

Her eyes, if possible, narrowed even more. She leans back into the pillows behind her, almost affronted. “It wasn’t his story to tell,” she replies almost venomously. “That’s what he doesn’t understand. _They made this my story._ It’s no longer his to tell or his to feel about.” Her thumb jutted at her chest angrily. “It’s _mine!_ I may have been used to get his attention, but he doesn’t get to dictate any further than that, you hear me?”

Dinah looks into those young, furious eyes. She can feel the burning, can feel that disappointment and anguish and anger festering in her own stomach again. The same as it was just months ago, the same as it still is. 

She thinks there’s a man on the other side of the country who has heard much the same, whose last appearance is more reminiscent to the Bruce who had appeared at her apartment now that she thinks about it.

It reminds her of how angry Ollie’s guilt had made her feel, too. 

She nears the bed and sets herself on its edge, leaning into her knees. “Yeah, I hear you,” she agrees. “I probably hear you more than almost anyone else can.”

A bitter laugh escapes behind her. From the corner of her eyes, she can see the redhead bury her face into her hands, head shaking. 

“No you can’t,” she says forcefully. “No one can. I wasn’t. I wasn’t even in my suit. I wasn’t even on the streets. I was found out where I was home, where I was safe, and he _tracked us down._ He didn’t care who I was. Didn’t know. Just knew that it’d matter to _Batman._ Do you realize how screwed up that is?”

Dinah looks to her, makes sure that her former protege is looking her back in the eye before saying, “Yes, Batgirl. Yes I do.”

It wasn’t the same. Not nearly. But the effect was the same. The way she feels now, stormy and broken and pittied inside still -- Dinah’s all too familiar with _that.  
_

The redhead’s nose curls in a snarl. “I will _never_ be Batgirl again,” she says lowly, snarling. “I will never _walk_ again. And you act like you know what I feel--”

“The kid who took on Killer Moth and Firefly with me just to prove a point, who broke into the JSA facilities just to get the right training, who could spit in the face of Batman and walk away with his _respect_ rather than their butts handed to them?” Dinah says, leaning closer. “That girl? She’s right there still. I can _see_ it. And further more, I know it because you made Batman look like a whipped puppy at my door _just with your words._ Whether you call yourself Batgirl or not is your business, but acting like anyone -- even a _maniac_ \-- can keep you from being who you were?” She looks down her nose to the girl. “Unacceptable. Untrue.”

She stares at her, eyes watery. “Why are you talking like you know anything about this?” Batgirls asks. “How could you _ever_ know--”

“Because I’m not Black Canary anymore, alright?” Dinah explodes, not even thinking. She watches the confusion, the crest fallen look of the young woman who once looked at her as a hero. Dinah sighs, reaching to her face, hesitating. Then she reaches for the mess of a blonde wig, sweeping it off of her head in a well practiced sweep, shoulders falling. She can feel the other’s eyes boring into her. “I trailed a drug dealer. Turns out he was part of something bigger that GA was getting involved in and... I wasn’t ready... I wasn’t...” She throws the wig to the floor, rubbing at her eyes. “I’ve tried. I’ve really tried, but the Canary Cry was ripped right out of me... and... well. I’m sure it won’t be long before whispers spread among the other capes, but all anyone needs to know is that it wasn’t the only permanent thing taken from me.”

When she looks to Batgirl, she can see that the girl is speechless, probably the most speechless she’s ever been around Black Canary. 

Dinah continues, “You might think that being yourself in costume, feeling like you’re capable of fighting back makes it easier... I don’t know. Maybe it would have mattered. It didn’t help me. It still doesn’t help and I mean,” she waves at herself, “just look at me. I don’t even know what I’m doing in this anymore. I just _don’t know_.

“Look. I know this is a lot. But I’m not telling you this because you shouldn’t be angry. Be mad as hell, I still am. Sometimes it’s the only way to get through things. But I am telling you because I _hear you._ I’m trying to make this my own story, too. I think we both should. I think it’s the only thing we _can_ do,” Dinah explains, taking her old friend’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “And if you need anything... well, I’m thinking of building a flower shop. I haven’t decided yet. But I think if anyone’s capable of finding me, it’s you.”

Batgirl stares at her before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. Thank you.”

Dinah leans forward, pressing gentle lips to her former acolyte’s forehead, and starts to leave. 

* * *

It’s been years. She doesn’t know what to do again. She thought she’d known, but she’s still without a cry, and now she’s without Oliver -- sacrificed for a story that wasn’t his own either. 

The flower shop is faltering before her eyes, nothing grows. She receives a generous donation from time to time that she sends back to Wayne Enterprises without ever opening. 

Dinah isn’t sure what to do with the computer Roy set up for her, or the email account he was adamant would make staying in touch with him and Lian easier, but she is _very_ certain when she receives an email from an entity that promises to help her find her clipped wings again, she’s going to choose to believe this Oracle.

_Are you ready to raise from the ashes, Canary?  
_

it asks, like it’s even a question.

She clicks yes. 


End file.
